


The relaxation method

by diabla616



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, M/M, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diabla616/pseuds/diabla616
Summary: Working from home is stressful sometimes, but everything is a little better when Richie's involved.Or: Richie gets creative while Eddie's stressed on a video conference.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 210





	The relaxation method

Occasionally Eddie likes to work from home; he's disciplined enough to maintain a schedule, and he's infinitely more productive in his own environment so his company hasn’t yet seen reason to refuse.  
There was a time where this absolutely wasn't the case, but Richie's brought a wealth of positive changes to his life in the year since they left Derry for the second (and last) time.

Of course, he'd not expected to be working from home _indefinitely._

Some things are easier; Richie isn't touring, obviously, so he cooks and cleans while Eddie's working; slots himself so seamlessly into Eddie's routine that some days he thinks he might not even complain if this went on forever.

_Some_ days Eddie feels like that- today though, he'd very much prefer to be back in the office. While he's been in the corporate world long enough to be immune to nearly all permutations of conference call, he’s fast realising video conferencing is a special level of hell.

Eddie's got his laptop set up in their study; realistically he knows he could take the meeting from his couch if he chose, take advantage of the indulgent, oversized six-seater Richie insisted on, but it's easier this way to keep his work from bleeding into his life too much. This way he gets to draw a line under the day and actually enjoy his time with Richie.

Fifteen minutes before the meeting is due to start, he’s already in his study, adjusting his desk chair for maximum comfort - there's been no official communication on how long the meeting should run for, which in itself is telling - and so Eddie just _knows_ he's going to be stiff afterwards.  
By the time he's finished the necessary adjustments, his shirt and tie already feel stifling in the heat; he's left off the business dress the past week, since the temperatures started pushing into the hundreds, and returning to it today is another minute inconvenience grating on his frayed nerves.

He's not even surprised when his laptop decides to restart a full ten minutes before his meeting; it's been that kind of a day already.

Five minutes to go and his laptop is booted up and ready, and Eddie's tension so tightly-wound that he doesn't notice Richie enter the room until he's setting down a glass of iced tea onto one of his ridiculous joke coasters – this one reads _I prefer my kale with a silent K_ \- Eddie doesn’t even roll his eyes.  
He glances up to shoot Richie a grateful smile, but the stress must show through brighter. Richie grimaces,

"That bad Eds?"

"It hasn't even started and I can feel the stress headache coming on already. Whose fucking bright idea was it to start _skyping_ all our meetings?"

Richie doesn't reply to that; Eddie knows he understands the corporate world about as well as Eddie ever understood showbiz; which is to say, only the bare minimum and no desire to learn more.  
Instead, Richie winks at him and drops to his knees under the desk,  
For a minute Eddie forgets to breathe.

" _Richie!_ " he hisses, but Richie doesn't move, just mimes zipping across his mouth, and gestures at Eddie to carry on.

When Eddie looks back at his laptop it's time to log on for his meeting, too late to make any fuss to Richie, whatever his intentions.

At first Richie doesn’t actually _do_ anything, doesn’t even touch. Eddie dials into his meeting and sits through the roll call achingly _aware_ of Richie by his feet; a sensation that’s almost nostalgic, as familiar as it is.

He remembers that _now_ ; the irrational fear he'd had sometimes as a child; that if he looked away too long he'd disappear. Or perhaps that _Richie_ might; finally driven away by his Mom’s poison.

Richie nudges his feet aside enough to rest his knees between them. Eyes still trained on the screen, Eddie lets himself be moved until Richie settles again.  
Eddie tilts his webcam up slightly for peace of mind, making sure there's nothing more than head and shoulders in the shot, then settles back into his chair. Under the desk Richie pushes against his knees lightly, asking permission. Eddie allows it, lets his legs fall further apart while Richie shifts closer.

For several minutes Richie doesn’t move. Eddie can feel the heat of him right there, and his hand still resting lightly on Eddie’s knee, as the group on screen work their way through various mis-steps and microphone issues before the meeting commences.

Whilst everyone is logging on and technical issues are being smoothed out, those already logged in make small talk. Eddie mostly ignores them, letting his eyes drift around the room instead. The bay window needs cleaning – now Eddie’s noticed it he’s going to have to clean it later. He tears his eyes away from it before he can fixate, and his attention catches on a woman he recognises from his department complaining about her husband,

“and he’s just always _in the way,_ you know? He’s driving me crazy. Anyone else ready to be out the house already?”

A few murmurs of agreement,

“Actually,” Eddie cuts in, voice tight, “I’ve really enjoyed the extra time with Richie myself.”

Almost in response, he feels Richie shift closer, hands on Eddie’s knees running thumbs softly along the seam of his pants. Even through the material, Eddie feels his touch like a brand.

His input provokes a couple of eye-rolls and a few muttered comments, but Eddie doesn’t _care_. His current happiness is hard-won; Eddie had been too accustomed to _home_ being an obligation he owed to someone else, Richie without any experience beyond stifling loneliness, and so they’d trodden on each other’s toes several times in the effort to rearrange themselves around the new status quo. Eddie’s proud of both of them. 

On-screen his MD runs through the agenda:  
"- that shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, then we'll come to you, Kaspbrak,"

Eddie acknowledges him with a nod, and he continues, "you can run us through the Parson and Jones accounts, then any other pertinent information, and after that we'll move on to-"

It's fortunate for Eddie at this point that their heavy wooden desk blocks any view he might have had of Richie in this position, because he can practically _feel_ Richie's mocking response, and immature as it might be, Richie's jokes (even the bad ones - _especially_ the bad ones) never fail to make him laugh. Instead he pulls up the figures he'll need for his contribution later in a separate tab, part of his attention on the screen and the rest on Richie - whatever he's planning.

Richie starts slow, fingers running further up the seam of Eddie's slacks, waiting for him to relax into the touch before going further. The tension which had been pooling in his chest all morning is bleeding out of him slowly, as Richie works his hands over Eddie's thighs in maddeningly tiny increments.

When the meeting proper starts Eddie pulls his attention back to the screen, tearing it away from Richie’s clever fingers, a little reluctantly. He’s not hard yet, though his body is slowly getting the message; Richie’s never been one to be denied attention for too long.

The first presentation isn’t relevant to him, but it’s rude to turn off his mic this early into the meeting, so he doesn’t. Richie’s hands have reached his hips now, fingers pressing into the skin there almost hard enough to leave bruises. Eddie slips off his shoes and settles his feet along Richie’s legs, wishing he’d left his socks off to feel the hair on Richie’s thighs through his toes.

Under the desk Richie’s hands have made it to the front of his slacks, and it takes a monumental effort to not react at all as Richie pulls down the zipper of his pants. In the meeting the conversation has moved on to something marginally more interesting, so Eddie tunes back in, occasionally chipping in with his own input, or criticism where needed.

He’s in the middle of expanding on exactly why the current proposal is just not feasible when Richie ups the ante, leans forward and just _licks_ a wet line along his now more than a little interested dick. 

Eddie doesn’t falter, but he does let the topic change without heat. Richie keeps at it, slow unwavering licks through his briefs, until they’re damp enough that if he chanced a look down the fabric would almost be transparent. Every breath Richie takes pulls a shock of cool air over his sensitive skin. It should be uncomfortable, almost gross, but it’s not – there’s a portion of his awareness focused enough on Richie’s attentions that any stress from his meeting has faded into background noise.

Slowly Richie pulls his briefs down enough to expose his cock, continuing the wet slide of his tongue without interruption. 

Perhaps it’s the _illicit_ feeling about all of this turning Eddie on; the pressure to stay silent and unaffected in front of his colleagues, but whatever it is, it’s really working for him. Knowing Richie’s there on his knees in baggy shorts and a worn-in T-shirt just for _him_ feels like a high Eddie could spend months chasing

Eyes still on the screen, Eddie shifts slightly in his chair. Richie doesn’t move away and the motion pushes the head of his cock past Richie’s lips just slightly, making his breath catch at the sensation. With a smile Eddie can feel, he pulls away to press a soft kiss to the sensitive skin at the v of his hips, before fitting his mouth back around his dick.

Eddie fights his breathing into submission, thankful that there’s another two presentations before he really _needs_ to be fully functional.

Idly he drops a hand to Richie’s head, dragging his fingers through the messy curls. His hair hasn’t yet fully dried from the shower they shared earlier, and it’s cool between his fingers. He feels Richie’s hum of pleasure at that, and allows himself a smile; it never takes much to get a response from Richie, but somehow Eddie feels like he’s won something every time. 

Richie shuffles until he can rest his head on Eddie's thigh, then just _settles_ , Eddie's dick in his mouth, and his large hands resting on Eddie's calves, thumbs rubbing over the fabric there. 

Eddie's hard, of course; Richie's _touching_ him, but there's no urgency behind it. It could almost be relaxing - even if he weren't currently on a video call with several of his industry’s finest - there's no race to the finish line. Nothing but the wet heat of Richie's mouth around his cock, and the familiar weight of his head on Eddie's thigh; Eddie thinks he could live in this moment for days.

The meeting moves on, Richie just- doesn’t move; Eddie’s fingers comb absent-mindedly through Richie’s curls and onto his neck, and he’s rewarded with a full-body shiver from Richie. He can’t quite fight back a smile at that either.

The desperate, gnawing need to be one hundred percent focused on each other come wreckage or ruin, so familiar from their youth, which had come crashing back to both of them in Derry last year has softened now into a well-worn domesticity, where they just _fit_ into each other’s space without cracking the brittle edges they both had.

The next two presentations feel torturously long. Eddie lets the information wash over him, probably not retaining more than half of what’s said – he’ll have to actually read the follow-up email this time – but he can feel Richie's throat work as he swallows around him, sloppy and haphazard. Every breath Richie takes feels like it runs right through him.

When it’s time for his input Eddie shifts in his chair again, trying to offset the ache he can already feel settling along his lower back. The wet slide of his dick over Richie’s tongue is a delightful bonus, made sweeter still when Richie takes the moment to get more comfortable himself, pulling his mouth off Eddie’s dick entirely then sliding back into position excruciatingly slowly.

The seal has broken now; Eddie can feel it building in his gut with every tiny motion Richie makes. He runs through his own presentation methodically, pausing where necessary to answer questions – if he’s a little shorter with people when he does, well, no one comments. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears; it feels almost loud enough for _everyone_ to hear.

Richie’s still not moving, but Eddie’s patience is running thinner as he draws his presentation to a close. He can feel his body responding more to Richie now, shocks of pleasure at every tiny motion; so turned on it’s almost painful. A drop of sweat trickles down his back, soaking into the bottom of his shirt and Eddie grimaces at the feeling.

Under the desk Eddie takes his hand out of Richie’s hair, feeling a little like he’s going to combust if he doesn’t do _something_. He slides his fingers down to Richie’s mouth instead, running them over Richie’s lips where they’re stretched around his dick. He can feel the soft moan Richie makes in response all the way along his spine.

Burying his fingers back into Richie’s hair he moves Richie’s head, just slightly, but has to bite the inside of his cheek at the sensation that generates. Richie takes the hint, and starts to move, pulling back enough to flick his tongue around the sensitive head of Eddie’s dick and moaning low in his throat when Eddie’s hand tightens in his hair.

On-screen a heavyset older man frowns at him,

“You ok, Kaspbrak? Looking a little peaky.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie grits out, “just – ah – not used to the heat is all.”

The rest of the conversation fades into white noise as Richie brings him ever closer. The meeting winds down, a few people logging off one by one, and Eddie watches the pattern it makes on his screen; a patchwork quilt of semi-familiar faces, all unknowingly watching as Richie sucks his dick.

Eddie holds out as long as he can, then as the remaining stragglers are dropping out he flicks off his video feed and exits out of the meeting, finally allowing himself to look down at Richie between his knees.

Richie looks _wrecked_ ; spit-slick lips and wild hair from Eddie’s hand running through it. He’s moaning softly still, the heel of his hand pressing against the front of his shorts. When he notices Eddie’s finished with his meeting he catches Eddie’s eye and winks, the smile clear in his eyes like he’s sharing a particularly good joke, and that’s what tips Eddie over, finally, as he spills into Richie’s mouth with a groan.

He feels Richie follow suit as he’s catching his breath, then Richie unfolds himself from under the desk with a wince.

“Well, Mr Kaspbrak, I hope that was a productive meeting?”

He slumps back against the wall, looking pleased with himself, Eddie swats at his chest weakly,

" _fuck you_ " Eddie manages, breathless; "I'm never going to be able to do another video call again."

Richie laughs, delighted.  
"Happy to be of service Eds." 


End file.
